


The Curse of Christmas Eve Eve

by thattardiskey



Series: When Our Mortal Bodies Fail Us [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homophobic Language, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Slash, Transphobia, transphobia and homophobic language on the part of the attackers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:50:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thattardiskey/pseuds/thattardiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard knew he'd get a phone call from the high school at some point. He didn't expect the call to be about Sigrid getting in a fight. He especially wasn't expecting to see Legolas just as beaten and bloody as her when he walked into the Principal's Office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't see it in the tags, this work will have transphobic and homophobic language. Fear not, it isn't used by any of the characters we love, however, it is still potentially triggering and is used in a fight. It is not in this chapter, but in the next. 
> 
> Also, feel free to make something related to this work (seriously, I'd love you. It would be awesome) just let me know in the comments, on my tumblr (which is thetravelinghufflepuff.tumblr.com), or tag my url on your work.

It was well known that the Bowmans were cursed. It wasn’t a serious curse, or a big life changing curse. It was a small curse. It was the Curse of Christmas Eve Eve, as Bain had named it.

The Curse of Christmas Eve Eve was a curse that every year, without fail, a Bowman would get injured on December 23rd. It was never life threatening and it was always visible enough to ruin Christmas pictures with the extended family.

Therefore, Bard was on edge. He didn’t consider himself an overly superstitious man, but was willing to concede to the Curse of Christmas Eve Eve. He had scheduled a simple job, sealing windows for Bilbo Baggins, an old friend that understood and promised a ride to the hospital if things somehow went horribly wrong. He wasn’t going to doing anything dumb and risk it like he had last time.

The previous year, Bard was the unlucky victim. He had burned himself rather badly on the wood stove attempting to show off in front of his kids. The burn took up a good part of his bicep and prevented him from wearing the matching sweaters his aunt had painstakingly knit. Instead, he stood off to the side in an old t-shirt, blistering burn glaringly obvious.

Before that it was Sigrid, who had slipped in the driveway and broken her ankle. With the break only days old she still had on the large awkward brace and was on a fair amount of painkillers. A dopey grin covered her face and she leaned heavily against her brother, who was more resigned to his fate than anything. Her crutches rested against a very angry looking Tilda. It was one of Bard’s favorite christmas pictures.

It was a little past noon when the school called. Bard had finished his lunch break and was about to tackle the upstairs windows when his phone rang. He sighed heavily, knowing what the call was about.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello Bard.” Immediately, he was suspicious.

“You’re not the nurse.”

“I’d think not.” It was Gandalf, the high school principal. He’d been in charge even when Bard was a teenager. He was ancient then and appeared not to have aged a day since.

“What happened? What did Bain do?” If Gandalf was calling, he must have been relatively fine and in some kind of trouble.

“Sigrid, actually. There was an altercation.”

“I’m sorry. I must have misheard. Did you say Sigrid was in a fight?”

“Yes, and she held her own rather well. You’ll need to come down to my office to talk about it.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Good. Now, I have a few other parents to call. Goodbye Bard.”

Bard muttered something back in response and hung up. He shouted for Bilbo until it dawned on him that he went out for groceries and ‘would be back in 15 minutes.’ Bard texted him a quick apology and knew that he would understand. Bilbo had a cousin, closer to a son really, that he raised since the boy was young.

—

Bard had the displeasure of arriving during a passing period. As he walked in, students bustled about. A few looked in his direction, only to immediately turn to whoever they were walking with and start talking.

Entering the main office did not ease Bard’s discomfort. The uncomfortable feeling of the principal’s office never leaves a person. Bard would know. As a teenager, he spent a fair amount of time sitting in the same chairs that littered the place. They hadn’t been rearranged either. He could even point out “his” chair. It was the very center one. Sigrid was sitting in it. She held an icepack to her cheek and the bright red promise of a bruise was clear around it. Her lower lip was split and there was a smear of blood on her upper lip. Her formerly prim and delicate hands were swollen and there was blood under her fingernails. Her white flower printed shirt had drops of blood on it and was wrinkled far beyond anything she’d typically allow. Her hair was sticking out at all angles from a loose braid. She sat with a smug, proud smirk on her face. It was strange and startling for Bard to look at her.

Next to her sat an uninjured but clearly shaken Frodo. The groan Bard had held in the entire ride and walk in escaped. Of course Frodo was involved in this. Bilbo would be furious.

On the far side of the room, tucked in the corner, was Legolas. He was completely serene but looked just as bad as Sigrid. Maybe worse, but that probably had more to do with the blood still on him. He had three scratch marks running down his cheek. They didn’t appear deep from where Bard was and they were beginning to crust. The boy was holding a wad of tissues under his nose and he had a yellowing bruise forming on his jaw. He cradled his ribs slightly.

Selfishly, Bard wondered what this would do to his budding friendship with Thranduil. It certainly wouldn’t help. No amount of shared drinks or bizarre 3 am rides to the ER would fix the “my kid fought yours on his first week of school” roadblock.

“Da!” Sigrid called out, smiling for a second before her lip stopped her. She patted the empty seat next to her. He sat.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! The nurse says nothing is broken and I don’t have a concussion.”

“What happened?”

Sigrid darkened. The nurse came in and prodded at Legolas’s nose. It had stopped bleeding. She foresaw no complications but suggested that he get checked out by a doctor.

After the nurse left, Legolas unfolded himself and moved closer to join the impending conversation. All three of the teenagers spoke at once.

“They saved me.”

“These guys were cornering Sigrid and-“

“Those super-senior assholes were harassing Frodo, Da, and-“

The chatter was silenced by the slamming of a door. Everyone looked over. There stood Thranduil, cold and unreadable and Bilbo, clearly heated and clearly the one who slammed the door. He immediately went to Frodo, worrying over the boy.

“I’d love to hear about how you got in a fight your first week of school, Legolas.” Thranduil said. He cocked his head, “This isn’t like you.”

Legolas and Sigrid opened their mouths to talk in sync. However, before they could make a sound, Gandalf emerged from his office.

“Let’s discuss this in my office, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* Seriously, I cannot stress this enough. The aggressors in this fight use an extreme amount of HOMOPHOBIC and TRANSPHOBIC language and I feel like I should put some kind of warning for SEXIST tones. They are real shitty people that use rape-y language. I just don't want to trigger anyone. 
> 
> If you have any of those triggers, just skip this chapter. It's just the details of the fight, and you can read the rest of this fic without it with a fair amount of ease.

Sigrid woke up quickly, early and in a good mood. Her alarm had another 30 minutes, but the winter sunrise was beautiful and she hadn’t felt quite so good in a long time. She used the extra time and energy to spend a bit more time on her makeup than she normally did. Everything went right. She was able get her eyeliner and eyebrows right on the first try, which was a miracle in itself. Once she was done she even had enough time to have a breakfast slightly more complex than the usual banana she ate while driving to school. She was able to eat her oatmeal (with brown sugar and banana slices) and drink her coffee in peace. 

The day continued to go well. Her Trig teacher was absent and the substitute had misplaced the lesson plans, allowing them to spend the entire period doing nothing of importance. Her and one of the Durin boys, Fili, spent the period watching increasingly strange youtube videos and talking about the oddities of their respective cars. Hers started screeching whenever Fall Out Boy played, everything from the speakers going static to the check oil buzzer would blare. His truck had to be parked with the wheels perfectly straight or the steering wheel would lock up. The car would start but the wheel _wouldn’t move._

 In Physics, the teacher was clearly high and decided to spend 15 minutes talking about how the previous night he discovered that it was possible to “snowsurf” down a hill on his daughter’s kickboard. Later, he insisted on playing a class wide game of Apples to Apples that quickly dissolved. She wasn’t sure if she enjoyed the game or Legolas’s questions more that period.

“Does this usually happen?” He asked, looking over his bright red cards. 

“Only when he gets really stressed.”

“Do you think he was high when he went ‘snowsurfing?’” Legolas did air quotes around “snowsurfing.”

Sigrid thought for a minute, “No.”

They attempted conversation the entire period. Three or four sparse lines at a time, followed by strange silence and three or four more lines.

The attempt at conversation continued as they walked to lunch. They talked about the weather and the cold. Legolas mentioned that someone, Gimli, said there was a microwave around for students to use. Sigrid corrected him, there wasn’t but everyone used the one in the teachers lounge. She pointed it out, and said that she’d stay but if someone didn’t go and defend their table the freshman would steal it. They parted.

Sigrid then walked around the corner to see something she thought her school better than. Bill, a super senior, was crowded tight against an unseen victim. His flunkies, Bert and Tom, stood a step behind him, backing up his every word with their presence.

“Fucking faggot.” Bill said, pushing his target. “Fucking unnatural. All you freaks want is to perv on us. Us fine gentlemen.” There was the _thud_ of a back hitting the wall with good force. Bert and Tom took a half step forward, looming over the victim. “Fags like you using the same bathrooms as we use. Can’t even take a piss in peace. Huh girly? Huh perv.” He hit the lockers next to whomever he was harassing.

The word “girly” told Sigrid everything she needed to know, and her already quick step increased. It was little Frodo. She’d known him most of his life, even babysat him a few times when he was younger. However, at this point, everyone knew _of_ Frodo. He’d come out at the end of the last school year, told everyone his name was Frodo. It was a sweet gesture. Clearly in honor of his late father, Drogo. It caused a bit of commotion and the word spread fast. Most people accepted him, even if some of the older folks thought it a bit strange. However, there were some people that weren’t as accepting. It was no surprise that Bert, Bill and Tom were among them.

“Hey!” Sigrid found herself shouting. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!”

“Teaching this tranny a lesson.” Bill said, accenting his words with another shove. Bill turned to her, releasing Frodo, but still not leaving him with enough room for escape. He smiled at her, looking her up and down like a piece of meat. She held her ground.

“Wanna join?” Tom leered.

Sigrid pushed through Bill’s arms, placing herself between them and Frodo. She puffed up her chest with false bravado and placed her hands on her hips. Her average frame covered all of Frodo’s, a shield between him and the attackers. 

“Wanna play, pretty girl?” Bill asked, stepping into her personal space. Mere inches stood between them and Sigrid had to crane her neck to look at his face.

“Go, run.” Sigrid turned her head a bit, looking to Frodo. They were focused on her now. He could slip away. 

For a second, Frodo stood there, not wanting to abandon her. Then, Sigrid repeated herself with a reassuring smile and he ducked under Bill’s arms, running down the hall to get help. 

—

Legolas was starting to settle in. The school, despite all of it’s quirks, was nice. It was growing on him. It was strange, he mused as he pulled his lunch from the microwave and set off to lunch.

As soon as he rounded the corner, Legolas heard a _slap._ The clear sound of skin violently meeting skin, followed by a surprised gasp. He saw three men converging and a flash of brown hair and flower print. _Sigrid_. He knew without a doubt it was her.

He dropped the dish he brought his lunch in and rushed over to her. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, reaching her side.

“I’m fine,” She ground out, fire flashing behind her eyes. Her cheek was red. Her hands were curled into fists at her side. She straightened herself from where she lost her balance from the slap. “These assholes are just trying to scare me.” 

“We just wanna have a bit of fun, baby.” One of them said. He reached out and stroked her injured cheek. He stepped closer, so they were chest to chest. Sigrid looked directly into his eyes, lips curled in disgust. Legolas tried to separate them and get between the two. He was able to get a few inches.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”Sigrid growled. “Get your filthy fucking hand off my face or lose it.”

“Baby, don’t be like that.”

“Leave her alone,” Legolas protested.

“Don’t need to get your fag boyfriend involved,” Another said, pulling on Legolas’ hair.

 The fight started soon after and everyone had a different idea of what started it. Bill, Bert and Tom claimed that Sigrid threw the first punch (when the hand on her cheek wasn’t removed). Sigrid knew it started after Bill groped her, only to be kneed in what were supposed to be the balls and ended up being the stomach. Legolas could have sworn the first punch was thrown after he knocked away the hand in his hair. 

The fight was messy. A mix of a punches and elbows and scratches. One of them got Sigrid across the mouth with a class ring. Another grabbed her hard enough to bruise from behind and tried to force and push her around until she was able to put her heavy winter boot in his knee. She threw punches, and landed them.Legolas was able to duck out of most shit thrown his way, but still caught some damage. A strong elbow to his right side being the worst. Sigrid accidentally landed a scratch to his face attempting to go for Bert. His moves were more trained, and lacked most of the dirt the others ruthlessly employed. He held his own with a startling competence regardless.

It was a short-lived fight. However, it took a surprising number of people to tear them apart. Gimli was able to drag Legolas away and restrain him for the bit of time it took for the blond to snap out of it. It took teachers, the gym teacher and two teachers that were former Marines, and the school’s police officer to restrain Bill, Bert and Tom. They shouted profanities as they were pulled away and out of sight. The Durins were able to restrain Sigrid, but almost lost her a few times. She was spitting and screaming and thrashing right back at them, still on fire from the fight. She shouted well until seniors were completely out of sight. 

—

Sigrid and Legolas were brought to the nurse first. As they both sat in hard plastic chairs, holding tissues to their noses, Legolas turned to the girl next to him. She smiled at him and then raised her fingers to the cut on her lip, pulling them away to see blood.

“You’re lucky they didn’t get your right side.” Legolas gestured to her face.

“What? They got my right.”  

“Your nose. The stud.” Sigrid brought her bloody fingers around the tissues, up to the stud.

“Oh yeah. Guess I’m just lucky, huh?”

“Beyond lucky.” He nodded along. “One of my trainers once told me that in a fight the right side takes more punches, since most people are right handed.”

“Makes sense.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

 “Well,” Thranduil started, turning to his son, “I cannot fault you for defending your friend. You did a good thing.” Legolas smiled. “And I’ll have to find a doctor to look you over. Especially those ribs.”

“I know you know violence is wrong,” Bard looked to his daughter, “But I’m proud of you, honey.” He gingerly hugged her, “And don’t worry me like that again.”

“Guess this means I’m cursed again, huh?” She asked. Bard threw back his head in laughter.

“Definitely.”

Gandalf was ending a deep conversation with Bilbo and Frodo. However, the conversation was over, and Bilbo and Frodo left with Bilbo telling Bard to feel free take the rest of the day off.

“Now,” Gandalf said, turning to the remainders. “Some of you are aware of this school’s no tolerance policy.” He looked directly at Bard. “While it was determined to be self-defense, policy states that all students involved in a fight are to be punished. Specifically in the form of suspension.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bard muttered under his breath. 

“Therefore,” Gandalf continued as if he didn’t hear him, “I must give each student a 5 day suspension. Effective immediately, not including the break.”

“What?” Thranduil said, full of anger and surprise.

“You are welcome to appeal to the superintendent. She is currently on vacation and returns on the 27th.”

Bard got it immediately. Thranduil was still blinded by his anger.

“I’ll do just that!” Thranduil exclaimed, standing up. 

“I would expect no less, Mr. Oropherison.” Gandalf folded his hands on his desk, “If there is nothing else to discuss, I believe we are finished.”

Bard shrugged, “I’m good,” he looked to Sigrid, “You kiddo?”

She gave a similar shrug, “I’m good.”

“Mr. Oropherison?”

Thranduil caught on and his anger had cooled, however he still stood. 

 “I’m fine.”

“Me too.”

–

The families filed out and walked in silence towards the parking lot. Thranduil and Legolas were a few steps ahead, walking quicker and more determined. Bard and Sigrid lingered with each step, taking in every moment and wandering through the lot they had each walked through hundreds of times.  

“So ‘Rid, I was thinking-“

“Uh-oh.”

“You’ll like this one.” Bard affectionately knocked into Sigrid, “You’ve had a hell of a day, and you deserve a treat.”

“A treat?” She said slowly and in disbelief. She looked up to her father. 

“And I happened to remember a certain 50’s ice cream shop.” He went on, Sigrid became more excited.

“Really?” She asked. Bard nodded. “You’re the best.” She gave him a half-hug. She thought for a moment, “Can I invite Legolas? He’s had a rough day too.”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Thanks, Da.” She hurried to ahead to wear Legolas and Thranduil were, “Hey!” She shouted, a few feet from catching up. They both turned, “My Da’s taking me for some ice cream and you’re welcome to come,” She told Legolas, “if you want.” 

“You’re welcome to come too, Thranduil.” Bard added, coming up behind Sigrid. 

Legolas looked expectantly at his father. “We’d love you join you,” Thranduil nodded. “We can take my car.” 

“Um…actually…my car is here and once we leave I can’t come back on campus. Until the suspension is up that is.” Sigrid said. 

“Of course,” Thranduil responded, “That is understandable. Bard, you’re welcome to ride with us. However, I understand if you’d prefer your own car.” 

“That would probably be a good idea. I don’t want to bother you with a ride back here after.” 

“Well then, we’ll follow you.”  

“Sounds good.”

—

Due to the fact that it was the day before Christmas Eve, a Tuesday, and roughly 1 pm, the ice cream shop was dead. All the checkered booths and chrome tables were empty and only a single bored employee was present. 

Bard and Thranduil made their choices rather quickly. Each settling on old favorites. They took an oversized booth and watched their teenagers try a sample of almost every flavor. Eventually, the pair made their choices and took a table a fair distance away. They quickly appeared to be caught up in a serious conversation (in reality, they had discovered both of them had been raised on Star Trek and were debating the virtues of each captain). 

Bard and Thranduil made small talk, discussing Christmas plans and dinners. Once in a while, one would look over to their kids. At one glance, it clicked with Bard. As he watched the two beaten teenagers, with bruised hands and delicate gestures, he was astounded. He watched Legolas try to eat with what was obviously his non-dominant hand and Sigrid purposefully avoid the cut part of her lip and had to laugh. 

“What is it?” Thranduil asked, confused like he was missing part of the joke.

“They’re bonding.” Bard smiled into his ice cream, “I never expected them to after dinner. Now look at them. They’re probably plotting something now.”

Thranduil looked over, “I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t think I’ve seen Legolas look that serious outside of Risk.”

“They’re the Dynamic Duo." 

“I hope not.”

Bard nodded in agreement. “Let’s just hope they don't go defending justice and fighting for what’s right every Tuesday.”

“I can’t have Legolas turning the basement into his own Batcave.”

“I’d have a heart attack before I turned 50 if one of my kids was out there fighting crime in a mask and cape.” Bard looked at Thranduil, “I don’t want to even imagine that being my life.”

“I never even imagined this would be my life.”

“Really?” Bard visibly perked up, straightening in his chair and paying rapt attention to Thranduil’s words.

Thranduil made a face and shook his head, “I honestly never imagined I’d be living in Nowhere, Maine. Nor did I ever imagine that I’d be sitting in a cheesy ice cream shop, rewarding my son for getting in a fight.” He looked at Bard, “With my neighbor for company. My neighbor who’s daughter was also part of this fight. Not that I have any complaints, mind you.”

“Eh, I always knew this would happen one day.”

“Really? You always imagined that one day you’d be living in the middle of nowhere, sitting in a cheesy ice cream shop, talking to your _only_ neighbor, rewarding your daughter for getting in a fight.”

“Pretty much.” Bard took a spoonful of his ice cream, “I mean, I didn’t imagine it, just kinda always knew it would happen. Thought it would be my son though. First just ‘cause I thought any son of mine would be just as bad as teenage me. Then ‘cause Bain turned out to be Bain. Kid doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”

“So the rest, all what you thought.” Thranduil noticed some ice cream dripping over the rim of the cup and licked a long swipe of it up. “All of it?”

“Hm…what? Oh yeah. Lived here all my life, never imagined livin’ anywhere else. What I’m really surprised about is Sigrid being the one in the fight. Girl is the epitome of ‘use your words.’ They might not be nice words, but she uses her words. Proud of her though.” He ended his speech with ice cream.

“I feel the same about Legolas. He’s more the outwitting type. And I know I shouldn’t be proud of him for getting in a fight, but I’m proud of him.”

“He did the right thing. They both did. Defended someone who needed it. Sigrid protected Frodo, and tough as she is, she couldn’t have defended herself against three grown men who each had a foot height and at least 50 pounds on her alone.”

“Yes, you have a point.” Thranduil thought for a second, “You didn’t mention anything about the neighbor in your imagined future.”

“Well, the neighbor is a surprise. I’ll admit.” He pointed his spoon at Thranduil, “A welcome surprise though.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You should be.”

From a few tables over, Sigrid and Legolas laughed. 

“Well, I’m glad they’re getting along.” Bard said. “When I walked into the office I was terrified they got in a fight with each other.”

“I understand where you’d get that."

“And with us being the only real neighbors we have…”

“We’re lucky they were on the same side.”

“They’re both good kids.”

“That they are.”

They talked for a while longer. After everyone finished their ice cream they were reluctant to leave and stayed and talked. The single employee became used to the group's presence and leaned against the cash register, playing with his phone. 

Thranduil looked out the window, at first out of the corner of his eye, then turning to face it completely. Bard stopped talking and followed Thranduil’s eyes out the window.

“What are you looking at?” He asked, trying to look where Thranduil was.

“The snow,” Thranduil replied. Little flakes accumulated on the black pavement. “I haven’t seen many white Christmases.”

“Can’t imagine a Christmas that ain’t white.”

“Do you think it will snow on Christmas?”

“I do you one better,” Bard leaned closer to Thranduil, “I’ll bet you there will be a blizzard. Starting Christmas Eve and going through Christmas day. 

“I haven’t seen that weather report. All I’ve seen is chance of snow.”

“I haven’t see a report either, but weather reports can be wrong.”

“And what makes you so sure,” Thranduil still faced the window, but his eyes looked over to Bard.

“The moon, mostly. The sky too.”

“The moon? The moon told you there will be a blizzard that hasn’t been picked up by meteorologists.”

“I’m a 5th generation lobstermen. Was a 5th generation lobstermen.” Bard explained, both serious and as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. For a second, Thranduil nodded along. Then, he stopped and furrowed his eyebrows together.

“I understand how that would make sense in a quaint folksy wisdom way,” he said, “But not at all in a real world way.”

“You don’t want to get caught in a thunderstorm 3 miles offshore.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

It started to snow more heavily, thick white chunks of the sky falling to the earth. Overhead, dark grey-black clouds took over the sky. 

“I think I’d better head out before the idiots clutter the road.” Bard said, awkwardly climbing out of the booth. “Hey ‘Rid, I’m headed out. Stay safe.”

“It’s best if we go too. It looks like it will just get worse.” Thranduil got up, “Legolas, we’re headed out.” The teenagers reluctantly parted, as if they lived on other sides of the state instead of other sides of the road. “It was nice seeing you, Bard. We should do this again.”

—

It started snowing heavily at 3:31 pm on December 24th and ended at roughly 4 am December 26th. Over 2 feet made it to the ground and the residents of Dale opened their gifts to the sound of the howling wind. 

Thranduil was overjoyed.

Bard was pleased to have put off entertaining more _aggravating_ family members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, feel free to hit me up on tumblr. I'm thetravelinghufflepuff.


End file.
